Standing on the Rooftop
by Flaming Abbey
Summary: Harry can't sleep. Ever since the accidental death of Voldemort, Harry has been spending his nights stealing, causing confusion, and wandering the castle hallways and rooftops in search of where he belongs in life. And he's not alone. eventual SS/HP
1. Chapter 1

First fic. Hope you enjoy. please post any questions or reviews.

I own a guinea pig...thats about it

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Harry sat on the floor of the washroom he shared with his roommates in a dazed yet very deep contemplation. It had been a week since the dark haired potions professor had broken off…whatever the hell it was that was going on between them before disappearing altogether. Now here he was feeling more alone then ever.

Day was slowly fading, but if Harry tried to make it up to the rooftops now, he surely be spotted by someone. It's not like he was going to jump, he just liked to toy with fate. Something that had been toying with Harry since the day he was born and apparently still enjoyed doing so. He finally found someone who understood him and who was going through the same things he had. Until fate came back to rear its ugly head and took it away.

It had all started a few months ago...

_SSSSSSS Flashback SSSSSSS_

One can only lie awake at night and stare at the top of one's four poster bed for so long before one goes insane and murder's everyone in the dormitory. Harry discovered this soon after getting less than a weeks worth of sleep over a month long period. The constant disillusioned state of mind combined with the normal creepy shit that wandered around the castle after dark was slowly eating away what was left of Harry's sanity and ability to cope with the world.

Voldemort was dead. However, there was no great battle of good and evil, hell, there was barely bloodshed period, minus the bullet wounds. Yes, you heard Harry's subconscious correctly. Voldemort was shot, twice, in the head. Apparently, he and some high status Death Eaters, like Lucious Malfoy and Lestrange, decided to fuck around with a muggle family. Since said muggles were so beneath pure bloods, they never bothered to pay attention to the fact that there's many ways to kill people without magic. Hence, the distraught muggle family shooting all of them. The rest of the death eaters either committed ritual suicide or were caught soon after. Needless to say, no one saw that coming, especially Harry.

The war was over. Sure, there would always be discrimination between pure and half bloods, just like their will always be racism, classism, and homophobia. There were high hopes on both sides that the tension would ease over time, but if humans hadn't figured out a way to live together by now… Well, it didn't really matter. Magical or not, they'd be destroying the planet soon anyway.

So why did Harry still feel as though he was fighting a losing battle with a dagger twisting in his gut that only plunged deeper with every step he took? Why did he feel the urge to break every mirror he walked by?

His whole life, he had been either put down and pushed around by muggles or given the weight of the world to carry by wizards. There was never any in between. His life was ruled by extremes that he had no control over. A destiny he was born into by sheer luck of the draw that brought him years of solitude and pain that even his closest friends could not assuage.

Then, all the sudden, it was gone, and the world was happy, and wizards and witches everywhere could sleep at night, no questions asked. Yeah, that's great and all, but what was Harry supposed to do now? Enjoy life? Find another unwanted purpose? He was a puppet whose puppeteer got bored and went to go hire some hookers instead, cutting his strings and leaving his mangled body on the cold hard floor. He couldn't eat, couldn't sleep and couldn't say much to the people around him who were busy loving life and all its passionate glory.

And now here he was, once again, staring at the photographs taped to the roof of his four-poster bed. Not the wizard kind, the kind that was still and silent, the way photographs were meant to be. The grayscale photographs were of objects scenes, or people, mostly people interacting. Something Harry himself no longer had the power to do.

At the time Harry was contemplating whether or not he should risk roaming the halls of Hogwarts again. The last few times really confused the hell out of people. Once, he had snuck into the girl's dormitory and stolen a tube of Harlot red lipstick and designer perfume that was probably made by a child in a third world country. He proceeded to write "Love is Dead" on each of the tables in the great hall, including staff, with the lipstick then dumped the sickly sweet perfume (fun fact: perfume is actually made from a mineral deposit found in sperm whale intestines) on the doorway thresh holds and benches. There was a huge commotion the next day but since there was no magic involved, the staff had no way of knowing who the culprit was, except that he or she was a student. They assumed it was someone's scorned ex-girlfriend because of the content and substance from which the message was made.

Another time he re-arranged all of the shared textbooks in the Gryphindor common room by subject and then alphabetical order of each author. It only took a few hours, though it would have been much briefer had he not read the chapter overviews in each book. While it was appreciated, no one knew who the hell did it, or why and were left even more confused then before.

The worst time was probably when he brought twenty tubes of multiple colored acrylic paint and hid it behind a gargoyle statue. That night, he used various synthetic brushes to depict things such as the anti-Nazi symbol, anti-death eater symbol, which is like the anti-Nazi only with a dark mark instead of a swastika, and "Rise Against the Ministry" along with several other poster-esque protests for putting an end to the ridiculous antics of the Ministry of Magic. While acrylic paint is not quite as difficult to wash off as oil, it's still pretty fucking hard. The house elves were scrubbing at it for weeks even with the use of magic, and Dumbledore was furious. He gave a two-hour lecture on how, while freedom of speech and expression was encouraged, it should be done on paper or canvas or some surface other then school property.

There were a few other insomnia induced phenomenon's in Hogwarts caused by Harry, but he soon grew tired of constantly battling himself when he knew it would bring him no solace. He resorted to wandering around the castle grounds and hallways at night instead.

He sighed, finally getting up and putting on his glasses, while brushing his dark, mop-like hair out of his line of vision, and pulling on yesterday's hand-me-down muggle clothing over his nude form. The halls were empty, as usual, although there were usually a few rodents or ghosts out and about at this hour. Never any witches or wizards though, they were all to busy in dreamland.

As his bare feet padded up the various stone hallways and stair to the roof balcony, a million and one thoughts were going through Harry's head. Both Ginny and Cho had tried to get him to talk. To open up and express his feelings, but he stead-fastly assured them that he was content.

Ron and Hermione weren't fooled; they knew Harry far too well. In fact, they knew him so well, that they knew Harry would not open up about anything until he was either A) on his deathbed, B) on a friends deathbed, or C) until he was damn good and ready to connect and communicate with them.

Ron and Hermione had enough going on between their family lives as well as their own ever developing relationship was time-consuming enough. So, they resolved to let Harry come and go as he pleased as long as they knew he was stable enough for the time being. This meant that they clearly knew nothing of his nightly escapades, since insomnia, destruction of school property, theft, and a strange new obsession with photographs would probably give a little insight to his mental instability. They knew him well, but Ron and Hermione were only human and had no way of understanding Harry's strange forms of communication and would continue to be oblivious unless he left more personal messages.

It wasn't until about a week later that Harry realized that he had to stop. He got bored and snuck into the restricted muggle section of the library to read books on psychological theory to try and analyze himself. It was at that moment that he realized that he had secretly wanted to be caught. Maybe not by the whole school, but at least by his close friends. He wanted someone to reach out to him in such a way that he couldn't easily brush off or act his way out of it.

He also realized quickly that, not only would his actions be viewed as a desperate, juvenile attempt at affection, but that he was actually desperately and juvenilely attempting to get affection from others. It had to stop for the better good of both him and those around him. Now Harry had nothing better to do then wander the dingy castle hallways to the rooftop where he would stand at the edge for hours, just daring fate to blow a gust of wind his way and knock him down to the cold hard ground for the last time.


	2. Second Chapter

Here's chapter 2. A lot of the OOC behavior is intentional, but i'd still like to hear your opinion on it or any other comments you have are appreciated. I still own a guinea pig.

Also, someone noticed my reference to Standing on the Rooftop by Rise Against. Love that song and band!

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Stars: Gaseous spheres consisting primarily of hydrogen and helium, there being an equilibrium between the compressional force of gravity and the outward pressure of radiation resulting from internal thermonuclear fusion reactions. To be perfectly honest, Harry had no clue what the hell any of that meant and he really didn't care. Over analyzing something natural and beautiful with scientific reason just wasn't his thing, he'd much rather just enjoy the sight. Stars made him feel insignificant yet so alive at the same time. Their light could never be put out and the thought made him feel a little less alone. Hence, the reason he was lying on one of the castles many rooftops looking up at them, rather than tiptoeing along the edge as he usually would.

Plus, it had been a really good day. He actually had some human interaction in the form of a conversation with Ginny. Well, it was more like her pouring her heart out while listened with open arms, but Harry wasn't getting into technicalities. Apparently, Ginny was in a relationship with another girl and didn't know how to tell her family or friends. It didn't help that the girl she was dating wanted to stay in the closet to avoid word getting back to her parents, who might seriously consider disowning her. Ginny hated feeling as though she was walking on eggshell's every time the topic of her getting a boyfriend came up or when someone made a gay joke. All in all, she was a crying, stuttering wreck and seemed to think that clinging helplessly to Harry like a baby Koala Bear would make all of her problems go away.

Harry was also exited about Lupin visiting tomorrow afternoon. The last they had seen of each other had been at a school wide celebration for the death of Voldemort. Before Harry had realized that his life was now void of purpose. There was singing, dancing, under aged drinking, and way to much fun and love going around for them to actually catch up on anything.

Lupin had written to Harry ahead of time, saying he had good news about Sirius that was far too important to tell him about through a letter. Harry contemplated toying with fate again tonight, but decided he was far too happy to die just then. Not that dying happy was a bad thing, but tonight he just wanted to look at the stars. He wondered what it would be like to be infinite like a star. To never be born and never die and never have a purpose because he didn't need one. All stars wanted to do was live, just like Harry. But he couldn't just live. He was too human.

All this thinking was killing Harry's mood and making him angry with himself. It had been such a good day and he was battering it with his constant thinking. He sat up and crossed his legs, trying to think of where else he could search for a cure for insomnia. He'd read most of the books in the library, but they held no information of sleeping potions or spells. Potions! That was it! The potions classroom had its own stock of potions books that couldn't be found in the library. And what better time to look for insomnia potion than when the rest of England was asleep?

Harry pushed himself off the ground and briskly walked down several hallways and flights of stairs to the dungeons entrance. This was where things were going to get interesting. Harry didn't have a lamp and never brought his wand with him during his nightly walks for fear of using it on himself and the dungeons were far darker then the rest of the castle. Taking a deep breath, he pressed his back to the wall and slowly walked down the staircase and through the hallway, keeping his right arm out in front of him to make sure he didn't run into anything. After what seemed like an hour, Harry felt his fingertips brush across the cold dungeon door. He felt around for the knob and entered the room as silently as possible.

By now, his eyes had adjusted to the near absence of light and he could see the blurry outline of the various objects in the room. Now if only the bookcase had been somewhere other then the exact opposite of the room. He sighed and walked over to look through the various textbook glossaries in search of the potion he needed. He found plenty of quick fixes for sleepwalking and dreams, but none on insomnia. "So, what possibly illegal excuse for a potion are you attempting to make this time?"

Harry spun around, dropping the books and slamming his back against the bookcase. He cringed and slid down to the floor as white-hot pain shot up his back. An all to familiar figure was shining a bright and painful light in his eyes. "If you're going to steal from me, Potter, do it correctly and write up a list of what you need ahead of time. I'll be less likely to catch you that way." Professor Snape flicked his want, instantly lighting all of the lamps in the room, then turned to rummage through one of his many shelves of potions ingredients.

Harry stood only to painfully hit his head on a heavy book sticking half way out of the shelf. He fell to the ground once more, covering his head as another three books fell down on him. He looked up to see a very irritated Snape standing in front of him, arms crossed and foot tapping with impatience. "Well? Are you going to tell me what you were stealing or am I going to have to force it out of you?"

"I-I wasn't stealing anything Professor, I was just looking for a book." Harry slowly attempted to stand again, not daring to look at the man in front of him. He probably shouldn't have been so close to the bookcase after what happened last time, but he didn't have much choice considering Snape was standing less then two feet in front of him. "I'll just clean this up and be on my way if that's allright." Even when he was standing upright the professor seemed to tower over Harry.

"You honestly think I'm going to let you leave without severe punishment?" Harry continued to stare at the ground despite the question. Professor Snape sighed and shook his head then turned his heel and walked off. "Ten points from Gryphendor. Now, get out of my sight."

Harry bent down and quickly returned all of the books to their original places. He turned to see Snape standing by his worktable, taking notes on his latest experiment. Harry found this whole situation very odd. Not that Snape was working on a potion, but that he wasn't yelling at Harry or comparing him to his father. He cautiously walked closer and leaned against a pillar roughly ten feet from the older man and watched as he stirred the potion with one hand and scribbled down notes with the other for a good twenty minutes. Snape was either unaware of his presence or simply choosing to ignore him. "Potter, why are you still here?" The professor's eyes never left the potion, but Harry still felt as though he was being stared at. "I was just wondering Professor, why are you awake?"

"That is none of your concern." Snape turned to face Harry, leaning against the table and crossing his arms over his chest. If looks could kill, Harry would be dead right now. His breath caught in his throat as dark orbs narrowed dangerously at him. It seemed as though Snape was just daring Harry to ask another question or walk closer. He wanted nothing more then to look away from that cold, hard stare but found that he couldn't until he had the answer to the question that had been plaguing him and that he was sure had also been plaguing Snape. "What are you going to do now? With your life?"

Snape's eyes widened and he raised an eyebrow in confusion. "What kind of question is that? I'm a professor and I intend to stay one."

"That's not what I meant." Harry stared at the wiggling toes on his bare feet. Why did he always wiggle his toes or play with his feet when he was nervous. "He's dead now. Voldemort, he's dead so you don't have to be a double agent anymore. You can live your life the way you never could before, find what your in search of. So what are you going to do?" Harry looked up to see Snape was done being confused and had gone back to being angry. "Get out of here Potter."

"Why are you being so nice to me?"

"I said get out!" Harry could've sworn he saw fire burning in the black eyes of the older man. It was time to go, for now at least. Harry pushed himself off the pillar and scurried out of the classroom with his head hung. He stopped at the end of the hallway and looked back to see Snape in the same spot, shaking his head and muttering to himself.

Harry leaned against the wall and rubbed his eye. This was unexpected. All of the sudden, he was actually tired enough to fall asleep. 'Might as well take advantage of it,' he thought, especially considering he had such a big day ahead of him. Harry leaned against the wall and slid down to the floor. There was no point in trying to make himself comfortable considering where he was. He pulled his knees up against his chest and looked down at his toes, giving them one last wiggle before falling into a dreamless sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

sorry this took so long, i've been having trouble with a college course. please tell me what you think of Harry's interaction with others. I'm not sure if I've crossed the line for being overly out of character. enjoy and thanks to all of you who have commented.

SHSHSHSHSHSHS

A mountain of pancakes with chocolaty rocks and a waterfall of syrup cascading down onto rolling hills of eggs sat on Harry's plate. He didn't really want that much food. It just sort of appeared on his plate when he sat down. If he didn't eat at least a few bites, Harry would have to deal with the wrath of nagging Gryphendor's who far too involved with his mental and physical health.

"Harry, are you even listening to me?" Unfortunately for him, his perpetually PMSing Ravenclaw friend was beating them to it. "Harry!"

His head shot up to meet the very irritated eyes of Cho Chang. "Sorry, I must have zoned out for a moment. So Jonathan told you what?"

She rolled her eyes. "No! Jonathan told that awkward fourth year Gyrphendor girl with the glasses that Seamus was going to ask me to hang out at Hogsmead this weekend and I was, like, freaking out because I really want to go with him. Not really as a date, but sort of just a pre-date to see if I might want to date him in the future. But even if it was just to hang out, the circumstances still seem very 'date-ish', which would be breaking the one month rule with my friend Sarah, who just broke up with Seamus two weeks ago. So she'd be really angry and not talk to me and she's really popular so a lot of my other friends my not talk to me either and I don't know what to do." Cho took a much-needed deep breath. "Plus, I don't have anything to wear."

Note to self: If Cho ever comes in again looking upset, don't do the right thing and ask her what's wrong. It would only get Harry bombarded with crazy and useless information. He looked back at his plate and watched as his pancakes continued to drown in their own syrupy tears. It wasn't like he didn't care, but Harry didn't know how much longer he could bear listening to Cho's drama. The only other option was watching as Ron and Hermione badly tried to act inconspicuous as they held hands and played footsies under the table.

"Harry! Pay attention you bastard, I'm asking you for advice on my personal problems. Now what do you think I should do?"

"How the hell should I know? I can honestly say I've never had to debate whether or not to date Seamus. It was just sort of a given." He let out a sigh. "Can't we talk about this later? You're not even supposed to be sitting here, your in Ravenclaw. I'm surprised none of the teachers have said anything yet."

Cho scrunched up her face and whimpered. "But…but I really need your help. I don't know what to do."

"What makes you think I can help? I don't know anything about relationships, I've never even been in one. The closest I got was that time I kissed you back in fifth year and we both know how badly that ended." He shoved a few fork full's of eggs into his mouth. Why couldn't she take the hint? _God, please help me now_.

Harry felt someone tug on his sleeve and looked over to see Hermione giving one of her concerned mother stares. "Harry, you really should eat more or else all that studying you did for Snape's big test will be wasted. You did study, right?" Harry's eyes became as wide as saucers and the fork full of pancake that was on the way to his mouth dropped to the ground with a clatter.

It was official. God hated him.

SHSHSHSHSHS

Harry stood outside the front entrance of the school wearing holes in the soles of his shoes and scuffing the toes. He had run out the moment classes ended for the day after quickly changing out of his uniform into some casual muggle clothing: over sized jeans and a loose fitting black pull over from the lost and found. It was sunny, but a chill in the air reminded him that winter was headed his way. Lupin wrote to him that he would be arriving at noon that day. Harry's stolen watch flashed 4:38 in neon green letters. He sucked in air through his teeth.

This was not good. Lupin was never late unless he had a damn good reason, but even if he did, he should have been here by now or sent a notice. If he had good news about Sirius, then nothing short of the fucking apocalypse should be keeping him.

Harry growled in frustration as he leaned against the cold wooden door and slid down to the even colder ground. He stared at his feet for a moment then stretched his legs out in front of him. Harry waited outside the school for another three hours, occasionally getting up to stretch or walk around. Several of his friends tried getting him to wait inside where it was warmer but he made it very clear that he wasn't budging, so they all gave up.

"Oy mate, how you holding out?"

Well, almost all. Ron sat down on the same step as Harry, holding out a mug of steaming hot cider. Harry's mouth watered as the wind blew the scent of the warm spices in his direction. He muttered a quick thank you just before taking a slow appreciative swig then resumed staring out at the castle gates.

"Dumbledore's trying to find out where he is right now, but he says Lupin's probably just being held up by something. Nothing to worry about," said Ron, trying to sound optimistic. Harry shot him a questioning look and Ron sighed in defeat. He didn't even believe himself. Of course it was serious. Lupin loved Harry like a godson; he would never just not show up unless something very bad had happened.

Harry looked back out towards the gates, "I'm going to wait a bit longer, just in case."

"Harry…"

"No!" He stomped his feet on the ground. "He never gives up on me and I don't want him thinking for a second that I gave up on him or couldn't wait for him." As if to emphasize his point, he curled up into a defensive ball and peeked over his arms to glare daggers at Ron.

The red head was immediately taken aback. Every time he thought he was used to Harry's habits and strange forms of self-expression, his dark haired friend proved him wrong. Harry seemed to have lost all of his social skills. When he wasn't shutting himself off from the world, he was worrying himself to death about a friend. At least that's what it seemed like to Ron. Whatever happened to Ron being the strange one of the group anyway?

"Harry, going inside to eat dinner won't make you any less dedicated, it makes you normal. Especially since you've been dropping so much weight lately. It's not healthy. Me and the others are genuinely worried about you." Harry continued to look forward but he dangerously narrowed his eyes. Ron whacked him on the shoulder. "Don't give me that look when all I'm trying to do is talk to you," he growled.

Harry's face softened. "I'm not trying to make everyone worried, I'm just trying to figure some things out." He took another sip of cider then handed it to Ron, who finished it in a loud, unceremonious gulp. Harry inwardly smiled, _I guess some things never change, that's sort of comforting. _

"Harry I…I know I've always been the klutz or idiot of the gang and that we've had our differences, but that will never change the fact that you're my best friend. I love you." Harry and Ron both raised an eyebrow at the statement and Ron took a moment to rethink his approach before continuing. "And just for the record, I mean that in a completely not gay way." Neither of them could keep from bursting into laughter for a good couple of minutes. "I guess what I'm trying to say is, if you need anything or want to talk, please don't hesitate to come to me. Even if it is two in the morning."

Harry felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up as the color drained from his face. "You…you know about that?"

Ron smirked, "Come on Harry, I'm not that clueless. Don't worry, I haven't told anyone." He stood up and dusted off his trousers. "I'll bee inside."

Harry heard him open the door and called out before he realized what he was doing, "Wait." The red head stopped dead in his tracks and looked over. "You should talk to your sister. She-She really needs you."

Ron nodded and entered the building and Harry leaned back to look up at the sky for answers. It would be another few hours before the stars or moon were actually visible, but knowing they were there still made him feel a little less alone as he sat out in the cold by himself.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHS

Harry sat on the cold ground leaning against the door, only this time he wasn't sitting outside of the castle. At about 9:30 he was forced to come inside by one of the professors and since he couldn't sleep, he decided to go visit his favorite potions professor. Unfortunately for him, the plan had one major flaw: Harry wasn't welcome. Snape grabbed him by the shirt collar and threw him out of the dungeons before Harry could even say hello. Then again, Harry hadn't really expected anything less. During their last brief nighttime encounter, Harry had perplexed, disturbed, and quite possibly offended the man with his questioning and Snape wasn't the type to risk dealing with that two nights in a row.

Rather then trying to sneak back in or scurrying off somewhere else, Harry decided to wait outside the chamber. Maybe of he waited long enough, Snape would let him back in or at least not try to kill Harry as soon as he entered the room. He traced pictures on the floor with his fingers, stood up and walked around and, at some point, started humming softly to himself. He couldn't remember the name of the song or where he'd heard it, but Harry found the way the sound seemed to vibrate and echo through the dungeon hallways very soothing. Perhaps Snape would too.

He wasn't going out of his way to annoy his professor. In all honesty, Harry didn't like being around Snape period, but one can only wander empty hallways so many times before the start to realize how cut off they are from those around them. Snape may not be the most caring or understanding person in Hogwarts, but he was the only person Harry could count on to be awake. If Snape didn't open the door soon, then Harry wouldn't wait for fate to push him off the rooftop; he'd do it himself.


	4. Chapter 4

Sorry it took so long to update. I just finished a very time consuming month-long course for extra college credits. I will try to update every 1-2 weeks from now on and I will let you know if anything comes up that may prevent me from doing so.

Also, for those of you who are wondering, I enjoy adding my own characters to fan fictions. Don't worry, they usually just act as a friend figure to the original characters. Enjoy

SHSHSHSH

Harry lit a match and set fire to the tip of a willow branch, letting the first inch or so of wood burn and char. He then doused the flames out in a jar of water and proceeded to use the charcoal tip to sketch a transvestite Kermit the Frog hanging himself with his own elongated frog tongue. In the far corner, Miss Piggy grabbed her children and all of her belongings and ran into the loving arms of her new husband. Harry stepped back from his horribly twisted perception of how childhood dreams don't mix with adult realities. At least that's what he thought it was about. In the end, it didn't really matter. Harry was just bored.

It had been over a week since Harry had spoken to his potions professor after dark. Every time he tried to enter the dungeons, he was forcefully thrown out shortly after, left to spend the rest of the night shut out and alone. Not to mention, Snape had very recently changed the locks on the doors so Harry couldn't get in period.

The isolation was becoming unbearable. He needed someone to talk to, anyone, and for some unfathomable reason, Harry couldn't bear the thought of burdening his friends with his troubles. The gang was having enough trouble as it was with Ron's reaction to Ginny's change of lifestyle and her current partner. Who'd have guessed that Ginny and Cho could get along for more then two hours at a time, let alone date each other? Ron wasn't angry about Ginny being gay, he just hated her girlfriend. And who could blame him? Cho was annoying as hell.

Harry walked to the edge of the roof and jumped down onto the balcony on the east side of the building. The crisp air smelt of the sunrise and seemed to be alive with music. Folk music to be exact, it sounded like a girl with a guitar. Harry opened his eyes and looked around. The music wasn't just in his head; there was actually someone else out there with a guitar and the voice of an angle that had spent their life in darkness.

On the far side of the balcony was a line of open windows and a large wooden door that lead to an astrology classroom. A girl was on the ground, leaning against the door frame, strumming on a guitar and humming to herself. If she was aware of Harry's presence, she gave no indication. He walked over and sat about ten feet away from the girl and watched as her fingers danced over the strings.

All the sudden, her fingers tensed and she stopped playing to look sharply at Harry's green eyes. "I'm really not comfortable playing while people are watching." Her voice was deep for a girl, yet warm and fluid. Something about the way the sound washed over him like molten silver seemed very familiar. "I wouldn't have guessed. You sounded beautiful to me and I've been sitting here for at least six minutes."

She smiled and raised an eyebrow then looked over to see the beginning of sunrise. Harry looked at his wiggling toes. "Who are you?" The girl stopped smiling. "I don't mean to pry, but you're not a first year or an underclassman and you're certainly not in my grade or a seventh year. I know I've never seen you in Hogwarts before, I would have remembered someone like you."

She didn't answer immediately and Harry used the opportunity to take in her appearance. She had long, unkempt raven-black hair and icy blue eyes with pointy, elf-like facial features and albino white skin. She turned her face to the side and Harry noticed a distinctive and familiar arch in her nose. Where had he seen that before?

"Very perceptive. No, I'm not a student and I've only been living here for a little while. Actually, this is the first time I've lived in the Wizarding world period. Although, if you were really that perceptive, then you would know I don't appreciate being stared at."

"Why? I'm simply observing you to see what I can learn. You seem so familiar yet I know I've never seen you before. I can't figure out why."

The girl laughed, "I'm not familiar, you're just very lonely." She stood and stretched out her muscles. Harry bit his bottom lip as he took in the sight of her tall, thin frame, clad with loose fitting army green pants that hung low on her hips and a black and red corset styled shirt. Fingerless gloves and gel bracelets covered her arms and a dagger necklace lay snuggly between her breasts.

"Since I'm not a student, I'm not technically allowed to live here. But as long as I only come out at night and don't bother anyone who actually attends the school, no one really gives a shit." She reached down to pick up her guitar and leaned against the wall. "You've been coming out here almost every night since the dark lord was killed. You stand at the edge of the rooftop often but until recently, you never actually looked suicidal. Something must have happened this week to really set you on the edge and right now, you're just happy that someone else is awake and talking to you."

Harry smirked and stood only to realize that the girl was still a good few inches taller then him. "That's very observant for someone who was angry at me for staring." He strode over to the balcony railing to get a better look at the now rising sun. "It seems we are both very observant to the point of being stalker worthy."

"I get it from my dad. He's one of those people who notices everything and can figure out everything there is to know about a person just by looking at them or talking to them once. I'm with him a lot so I guess it just rubbed off on me." She walked up next to Harry. "The only difference is he has a short temper and a tendency to be a bit more judgmental then me." The girl turned to look at him, "What about you?"

"Ehh, I was just born this way," he replied. He hadn't expected her to speak so openly or to throw her head back and burst out laughing. The glint in her icy blue eyes seemed to bright up even more then before and Harry felt his grin widen. "So Harry, you were just born with a socially crippling gift slash curse? Now, what I want to know is how people expected you to save the Wizarding world as we know it when you can't even hold a normal conversation for more then two minutes."

"You know who I am?" The words left his mouth before he could think them over. Of course she knew, how many people had black hair, green eyes, and lightning bolt shaped scars on their foreheads? The girl nodded. Harry sighed, "Sometimes, I wish I could be anyone else just for a day. It would be a nice break to be able to talk to someone without having them look at me like I'm crazy because I'm not the pulled together hero everyone thinks I am or thinks I should be."

The girl laughed. "You know Harry, if it makes you feel any better, muggles wouldn't expect you to do or be anything great. They'd just treat you like a normal person, you know, treat you like garbage."

"….Yeah…"

She gave him a friendly shoulder punch and laughed again, "If its any consolation, I don't think you're any crazier then the average person. You just feel isolated because there's a lot going on in your head right now and you don't know how to explain it to anyone, including yourself. You need someone to free you from feeling alone, we all need that sometimes."

Harry's eyes opened wide and his breath caught in his throat. This girl, whoever she was, had just formed into words the inner turmoil that had been plaguing him for so long in one simple statement. "What about you? Why are you out here playing a guitar under the stars while the rest of the Wizarding world sleeps?"

"I told you, I can't wander the castle during the day or interfere with students. The only other options are Hogsmead or traveling back to the muggle world to visit friends there. I've been feeling lonely as well." She leaned against the balcony railing to stretch out her spine, and then pushed herself into an upright position. "I have to leave soon, my father wants me home before everyone else wakes up. Tell me, are you going to kill yourself if I leave?"

Harry bit his lip and thought before answering. Even if he did want to jump, he couldn't until he knew what would happen to Sirius or where Remus had disappeared to. In the meantime, it was going to be an awfully lonely following in his Gyrphendor friend's shadows and being locked out of Professor Snape's chambers.

The girl got fed up with waiting. "Harry, I'll make you a deal. I don't know anyone in the Wizarding world other then my dad and even if I did, I don't fit in that well and I have a hard time making friends. If you don't' kill yourself, then we can hang out sometimes instead."

Harry's eyebrows pricked up when he heard her proposal. A friend that could give him a third person's perspective on occurrences in his life was just what he needed right now. " That's a very interesting offer, I think I shall take you up on it."

"Great, I'll see you around then." She turned and walked towards the classroom, leaving Harry with happy thoughts. This time, it was going to be different. This friendship wouldn't be one-sided because she really needed someone just as badly as Harry did. She was what he had been searching for. She…Who the hell was she? "Wait, you never told me your name."

She stopped walking and looked back at him, "Does that really matter? I don't exist at this school to anyone else but you, so does a name really make any difference?"

"I suppose not, but even if you exist only to me, you still exist. Then there's your father. Whoever he may be, I should hope he knows you're alive. Just because the other students see ghosts wandering the building more then they see you doesn't make you insignificant."

The girl raised an eyebrow. She clearly was not expecting Harry to give such a detailed answer. "You don't have to explain yourself every time you're questioned, a simple yes would have sufficed. If I give you a name, does it have to be mine?" Harry shook his head and she furrowed her eyebrows in concentration for a moment before answering. "Bjork, Bjork Asdis. That was my mothers name before she married. I really have to leave now, but don't worry. I'm sure we'll run into each other again"

Bjork turned to walk away and Harry returned his eyes to the sunrise. He smiled to himself, knowing that this was going to be a very interesting, somewhat disturbing, yet very fulfilling friendship. Right now, that was just what he needed.

SHSHSHSHSH

Professor Snape checked his shopping list one last time before putting it in his pocket and grabbing his travel robes. He hated having to do anything that involved being social, even if it was merely purchasing potions ingredients from a local shop merchant. He gave the storeroom a final look over then headed for the door. If only he had known that a certain student was leaning against it on the opposite side, then he might have been able to avoid the awkwardness of said student falling backwards onto him, knocking them both to the ground.

Harry sat up, rubbing the back of his neck to try and assuage the pain from where it had struck the ground. "Are you alright sir?"

"I've survived through worse." Snape pushed himself up from the ground and dusted off his robes. "Damn it Potter! I thought we were done with this. I told you to stop coming here and to leave me alone. Why don't you ever listen to anything I say?"

"Because Professor, you're a lot more interesting to be around when you're pissed off about something…" Harry's voice trailed off as he cringed in pain. He was beginning to feel light headed. His vision was getting blurry and he felt a warm, sticky liquid leaking onto his hand. "I don't feel so good."

"It's probably from sitting up to fast after falling down. All the blood has drained from your head. Just take a few deep breaths and wait, you'll be fine."

"I don't think so Professor."

Snape looked down to see Harry still on the ground, staring in shock and disturbance at his blood stained hand. Snape sighed, "Potter, what have you done this time?" He pressed his sleeve against the wound to slow the bleeding then pulled the boy off the ground and led him over to a desk. "Hold the cloth in place. This is going to need stitches."

"Is Madam Pomfry even awake yet?"

"No," he pulled out a first aid kit and cleaned Harry's wound with an alcohol swab. "However, I will have you know, Potter, I am quite capable of treating this myself. Now hold still." Harry felt something prick the skin on the back of his head and neck. "You're very lucky, you know. If this gash were much deeper, you would have risked doing damage to your spine." Snape roughly grabbed his face and starred deeply into Harry's eyes for a moment as though searching for something. "No signs of a concussion." He finished applying a bandage over the stitches and started packing up the first aid supplies. "Well Potter, it is official: You're a bleeder. So don't do anything to strain the muscles on your neck for a few days."

"Got it," Harry slowly stood, taking deep breaths as directed, noticing at the last minute that his professor was headed towards the door. "Where are you going?"

Snape stopped dead in his tracks and answered without turning around. "I have some shopping to do. I suggest you return to your dorm and have a classmate escort you to the hospital wing."

"Can I go with you?"

Snape whirled around with a look of annoyance and confusion painted on his face. "What…Why? In case you've forgotten, I can't stand you or your presence and, last I checked, the feeling was mutual. You're not even supposed to be here."

"There's no class today. No one is awake and they won't be for quite a while, including Madame Pomfry, and I don't want to be here by myself."

"I told you, Potter, you don't have a concussion…"

"It's not that." Harry looked down at his wiggling toes. This was pointless. There was no way Snape would understand how desperate Harry was to escape isolation, even if it was with his least favorite person. Not to mention, Snape thrived off of isolation and the fear of others. Maybe trying to come here had been a bad idea…

Snape sighed in what sounded like defeat, "You have ten minutes to get your shoes and meet me at the front door or I'm leaving without you." With that said, Snape spun on his heel and briskly exited the room.

Harry stood there with his jaw dropped. That certainly wasn't the answer he had been expecting, but Harry wasn't going to question it. Years with the Dursley's had taught him to take what he could get.

He ran, or at least attempted to run, the entire distance to the doors and then to the front door. The throbbing pain that pulsated through his head and neck along with the occasional dizziness was worth it. He had one chance to get in with his professor and he wouldn't let anything interfere with his taking full advantage of it. Not even fate itself.

SHSHSHSH

any feedback or critiques would be greatly appreciated


	5. Chapter 5

here's the next chapter. I hope the wait wasn't too long, i'm in a place right now where i don't get internet access easily. feedback is always appreciated, especially about the interaction between characters. enjoy.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Medulla was one of the best-kept secrets in Hogsmead; A secret that Harry now had full access to. It was a shop that carried a full assortment of herbs, oils, incense, potions, as well as raw potions ingredients. Anything that the store didn't already posses could be ordered by the clerk and picked up in a matter of days. It was hard to believe that a place as amazing as this could be kept under wraps. Harry would have to ask his professor about it later, but in the meantime, he just wanted to know what the hell he was holding. "Professor, what is this? I can't read the label, the text is written in some old gothic calligraphy."

"Smell it."

Harry looked up from the potted plant in confusion to see Snape was casually rummaging through shelves of glass potion bottles. "Why do you want me to smell it? How would that help?"

"Potter, I thought we talked about your listening problem, just trust me and do as I say." Harry shrugged and lifted the plant to his nose. "It smells like lavender."

"That's because it is lavender."

"Oh…" Why did Snape take so much pleasure in making Harry feel like an idiot? "Well, what's it for?"

Snape sighed and rubbed his temples, "Potter, would you please explain to me how it is that you are a sixth year student and yet you know nothing of commonly used plants for spells and potions or how they function?"

Harry's face broke out into a wide and somewhat evil looking smirk, "What can I say? I just excel at screwing up and not really giving a shit to begin with."

"Language Potter," he handed Harry a jar of what appeared to be a petrified hamster then stalked off to another isle. Harry once again attempted to read the label before giving up and dropping it in the shopping bad with the rest of the jarred/canned/bagged ingredients.

Shortly after, Snape had crossed everything off of his shopping list. He paid the clerk and teacher and student headed out of the store, Harry with a potted plant and both of them carrying large sacks thrown over a shoulder. Snape led the way, twisting and turning through a maze of back allies before arriving back at the main roads.

"Where are we going now Sir?" Professor Snape suddenly tensed up and came to a stop. He looked around as though he knew that, at any moment, a crazed stalker was going to jump from the shadows and lunge at them with a knife. "P-Professor, are you alright?"

Upon hearing the younger wizards voice, Snape's shoulder's relaxed and he continued walking. "I'm fine Potter, its just force of habit." Harry mulled the statement around in his head. It made sense, considering he'd spent the majority of his life being a double agent. He would probably be overly paranoid and distrusting for the rest of his life.

Snape turned a corner and entered a building that smelt of fruit and pastries. The bakery was small and comfortable looking, with warmly colored walls and furniture and large one-way windows. It was empty, save a young clerk reading a large novel and sipping tea behind the check out counter and a woman who could be heard singing to Enya back in the kitchen.

The clerk looked up from his book and smiled upon hearing the two wizards enter. "Can I help you gentlemen?"

"Just a menu would suffice. We will be ordering to go," replied the older of the two. The clerk grabbed a couple of menus and led them to a small table in the corner for people who were waiting for take out. He cleared his throat before speaking, "Today's specials are lasagna and taco salad. I'll be back in a moment with some water and to take your orders."

With that said, the clerk walked into the back room and left a very confused Harry to wonder what the hell was going on. "Umm… Professor, what are we doing here?"

Snape placed his menu on the table and rubbed his temples in irritation once again, "Potter, we're in a bloody restaurant. What do you think we're here for? This is basic logic not advanced transfiguration."

Harry's face turned crimson with embarrassment and he stared daggers at his menu. "Sir, what I meant was why did you bring me here? I've no money."

"I thought as much, but that is besides the point. I will be paying." Snape raised a hand to silence Harry before he could protest, "you've done me a favor today by helping me to restock my potions ingredients and I don't like being in debt to others. Now, decide what you want so we can be on our way."

The waiter returned with a couple of glasses of water and took Harry's order. He then turned his attention to the older wizard. "Anything for you Mr. Snape?"

"No thank you."

"Alright, I'll be back shortly." He called the order back to the chef and returned to reading his book behind the desk. Harry took the chance to get a better look at him. The clerk slash waiter looked to be in his early twenties with a flat facial plane, large brown slanted eyes framed by black rimmed eye-glasses and copper toned skin that made a striking contrast with his highlighted dirty blond hair. He looked to be part Asian, part some kind of Spanish or Italian. Harry noticed that he was wearing muggle clothing; a black punk/rock band T-shirt over a red long-sleeve shirt, loose fitting jeans and work boots. He turned back to his professor, "Sir, if you don't mind me asking, how do you know the waiter?"

"And what makes you think I know him?" he questioned without looking up from his notebook. Something about the tone of his voice got Harry extremely flustered. In this situation, Harry would usually wiggle his toes as a way to calm his nerves, but unfortunately, all restaurants had a 'no shirt, no shoes, no service' policy. Harry settled for playing with his fingers. "Just now, he called you 'Mr. Snape' but you didn't introduce yourself when we came in. So he must know you from somewhere else."

Snape looked up, his dark eyes meeting Harry's bright green ones. "Very observant for someone who can't even recognize common plants." He returned his gaze to the notebook. "If you must know, I was a friend of his parents." Something about the statement didn't seem right to Harry; He was a friend of the family? "You used past tense."

"That is because they are dead." Snape's reply was casual but Harry had a feeling that there was more to it then that. Then again there was always something more to it with Snape. Harry became so lost in thought that he didn't' notice as the waiter brought over a brown paper bag of food or as Snape paid him and told him to 'keep the change.'

"Are you feeling okay man?" Harry looked up when he realized the waiter was talking to him. "I'm fine, thank you."

"Alright," the clerk was clearly unconvinced but decided not to press the subject "Well then, thanks for stopping by and I hope to see you again."

Harry soon found himself once again trailing behind Snape through the winding roads of Hogsmead as they headed for the train station. He remained silent as they boarded the train and took seats opposite each other in an empty booth. After ten minutes of twiddling his thumbs, Harry decided to try his luck at starting a conversation. "Professor, do you know anything about sleeping potions?"

"I wouldn't be much of a potions master if I didn't. What do you want to know?" Snape crossed his legs and folded his hands over one knee.

"Well," Harry fumbled for the right words, "say, hypothetically, someone was suffering from insomnia. Could the be cured with the right kind of sleeping potion?"

Snape sighed and rubbed his temples, this time along with raising an eyebrow. Harry noticed that the Professor did this quite often.

"First off, cut the 'hypothetical' crap. I'm quite aware that the insomniac in question is you, considering you've been practically stalking me these past two weeks. Secondly, a cure depends on the form of insomnia you have. In my experience, insomnia is usually either a genetically inherited sleeping disorder or is caused by a psychological problem, such as depression or anxiety. Then again, I'm a potions Master, not a doctor so I could be dead wrong. How long have you been showing symptoms?"

"Umm…" Harry didn't' answer immediately. Telling Snape the exact time frame of the onset of his insomnia might seem suspicious considering it was roughly two weeks after the dark lord was killed. The man thought Harry to be emotionally weak as it was and Harry didn't need to fuel his belief. "It's been a recent occurrence, but it's rather severe. I get an hour or two of sleep a night if I'm lucky."

Snape clearly knew that Harry was withholding information but decided not to call his student out on the subject. "All sleeping potions carry a risk of dependency and over dosing in the slightest bit can knock you unconscious for days."

"Are there any specific recipes you would suggest?"

The older man smirked. "You honestly think I'm going to give you the recipes for a powerful sleeping potion that you'll probably just botch up anyway and put yourself in a coma with?" Snape rubbed his chin and feigned being in deep thought. "Actually, hat's not a bad idea. Then you'd be out of my hair for at least a week. It'd be the closest thing I've had to a vacation in years."

Harry's shoulders sagged and he blew air through his teeth in defeat, "I don't think that's very funny Sir. The world would just be boring if everyone was ruled by logic and precision as you are. There wouldn't be anyone to stir things up for a change of pace or a break from normality."

"Trust me Potter, you alone have managed to keep me on my toes for years, so I never get bored."

Harry snickered as he mentally reviewed everything he had done over the past several years at Hogwarts to cause chaos for his Potions Professor. "Is there anywhere I can buy a low risk sleeping potion?"

Snape raised a hand to silence the young wizard and gave him a stern, level gaze. "Never take a potion unless you know you can fully trust the person who made it." He lowered his hand and uncrossed his legs. "If you're that intent on trying a sleeping potion, then I'll make it for you myself. If you don't self medicate, you'll drastically reduce your chance of dependency."

Harry sat there completely dumbfounded. Snape was being nice. He had hated Harry and Harry's loved ones since before they had even met and he wasn't shy about expressing these feelings. Yet recently the man had started to seem understanding and acted as though he actually cared in some way for his young insomniac student. What about him had changed? Or maybe it was Harry that changed? In the end, Harry had no clue; he just knew that something was different. Harry opened and closed his mouth a few times before he managed to form any words. "Th-thank you. That's a very generous offer. But…" Harry stuttered under the intense gaze of his professor, "but, I don't like being in debt to others either. There's no way I could possibly repay you for taking the time to brew and regulate a potion for me just so I can get a few more hours of sleep."

Harry was shocked to see his professor smirk and to hear him let out a low chuckle. "Potter, every hour that you spend sleeping instead of hanging around outside my door will be payment enough."

Harry smiled, but felt something inside of him sink into the depths of a cold and unforgiving sea. Snape didn't really care. Yes, he was being nice and implied that he cared about Harry in someway, but he was only doing it to keep the younger wizard out of his hair. Harry pulled his knees up to his chest and returned his gaze to the window.

The change in mood and posture did not go unnoticed by Snape. He mentally reviewed the conversation that had just taken place and tried to pinpoint where exactly he had scared or offended the younger wizard. Nothing came to mind except Snape's usual sarcasm, which could easily be mistaken as verbal abuse. That didn't add up though because Harry had been around Snape enough that he should be able to discern between Snape being his usual sarcastic and cynical self and his being genuinely angry.

He noted that the change in Harry's mood occurred right after he laughed and said Harry's absence would be payment for sleeping potions. Something about the idea of not seeing Snape anymore struck a nerve with Harry and the professor couldn't for the life of him figure out why. Most students reacted very positively when they learned that they would no longer have to spend time with the dreaded potions master. Then again, Harry was not most people.

Snape looked out the window to see that they were almost back at Hogwarts. He then looked at Harry to see that he was still hunched up in the corner with his glazed eyes still glued to something in the far distance. For what must have been the fourth time that morning, Snape sighed and rubbed his temples. He had a feeling the walk back to the castle was going to be long and silent.


	6. Chapter 6

I greatly apologize for how long it took to update. I am currently enrolled in my first year of college and am still adjusting. Please know that while my updates may become very erratic, I have no intentions of giving up on this story until it is finished. Hopefully the this chapter and the next ones will be up to par.

SSSSSSSSSSSS

Running faster then a speeding bullet with a sense of desperation and urgency didn't even come close to describing what Harry was doing. He had been mercilessly throwing himself in the direction of Dumbledore's since he first heard the news, mentally and physically scarring anyone who stood in his path. Even after running headfirst into a grumpy and now furious Professor Snape, Harry kept on moving towards his destination: Dumbledore's news about the whereabouts of Lupin.

After shouting the password and running up the steps to the headmaster's office without stopping, Harry collapsed into a slunched over heap on the floor and scanned the room for a seemingly absent professor Dumbledore.

"Ah, Harry my dear boy, I thought I heard a stampede of elephants headed this way. How have you…"

"Professor, please," Harry cut him off. "Just tell me what has happened to Remus? I've been going insane with worry, I just want to know if he's all right."

Dumbledore chuckled as he strode around his student and towards the desk. "At least have a seat and catch your breath. Why don't you enjoy some sweets while I tell you." Harry quickly complied except for the sweets part. He couldn't really catch his breath either or even sit still for that matter. He was too damn jittery; his left leg was pulled up to his chest and his right leg wouldn't stop shaking. "Please tell me."

Dumbledore's kind eyes twinkled. No matter how many times Harry saw this over the years, it never ceased to amaze him how much his headmaster's young and beautiful spirit could always show through his aging and withered face and body.

"It seems that Remus has come in to contact with a muggle medicine used to treat people with personality disorders. When given to a person who is already mentally healthy and does not need it, the medicine with give them symptoms of mental sickness, such as extreme paranoia and hearing voices. Because Remus is mentally healthy and a werewolf, he not only experienced these symptoms, but began to spontaneously transform back and forth from werewolf to human."

Dumbledore watched as Harry's eyes grew larger and larger throughout his explanation. Perhaps he should have informed his pupil that Remus had survived ahead of time. "Don't worry, the doctors expect him to make a full recovery very soon. Remus will be fine."

"Did…" Harry stumbled over his words. He wasn't sure how to ask this next question. "Did he hurt anyone?"

Dumbledore's smiling face fell. "Yes, unfortunately. He killed three people and badly injured another. The ministry has to sort this out and I, along with some other Order members, will most likely have to go and vouch for our dear friend so Fudge doesn't do anything rash like last time."

"This isn't the first time this has happened then?" It was more of a statement then a question, but Harry still needed an answer. "What happened last time?"

"He ordered Remus' execution. Luckily, Severus got there just in time to stop it."

Harry took a moment to absorb the information. He knew the ministry was fucked up and that Fudge was the type of person to hold others responsible for things they had no control over. But none of this was expected. He knew about muggle medications and the effects they could have if misused, but no one ever considered what would happen if a magical being came into contact with them. Especially a werewolf.

"Will he be sent to Azkaban?" Harry feared the answer but still had to know.

Dumbledore shook his head. "Fortunately, he is under house arrest at Grimmauld Palace as of now. I would not expect to be seeing or hearing from him anytime soon, which is why he asked me to pass on this message about Sirius to you."

Harry's ears pricked up at this and he looked straight into his professor's twinkling eyes. "He wanted me to tell you that they found Peter Pettigrew, who confessed to playing a part in the death of your parents in exchange for life in Azkaban rather then execution. Sirius is going to be cleared of all charges and set free. He is going to be kept in police custody until the paperwork is finished but Sirius should be a free man by winter break." Dumbledore smiled and watched as Harry tried to process the information. If Harry couldn't comprehend this part of Remus's message, then there was no way on heaven or earth that he would believe the next part.

"There's one more thing Harry. Sirius would very much like to become your legal guardian and for you to live with him. The Dursley's have already signed all the forms to turn you over to his care and are in the process of shipping all your belongings to his home as we speak." He chuckled before saying the next part. "Technically, Sirius should have asked for your consent before he did this, but we all had a feeling you wouldn't mind."

Harry choked and gulped in air as he had, without realizing it, stopped breathing shortly after the words 'Sirius is going to be cleared of all charges and set free.' It felt as though warmth and pure energy were bubbling out of his heart and flowing through his entire body. Sirius was coming home. They were going to be a family. As more and more happy thoughts gushed through Harry's veins, he found himself unable to keep up with what his professor was saying. Something about paperwork consent forms.

"Harry, my boy. Are you all right? You cannot seem to sit still."

It was true. Happiness was like a drug that made you loose all control of your body and have chronic fits of laughter. All Harry could do to hold back the intense joy was grin like an idiot and wiggle his toes. "I'm fine professor, it's just that…" He felt a lump form in the back of his throat and tears well up in the ducts of his eyes. Being happy had the strangest side effects. "It's just that, this is the best news I've heard in a long time."

Dumbledore's eyes shone with all knowing wisdom as Harry continued to sway back and forth between crying and grinning like an idiot. The young wizard stood and opened his mouth, but no words came out. What could he possibly say? Dumbledore had just informed harry that life as he knew it was about to change drastically for the better. "Professor I…" he swallowed again. What were those words he was searching for? "Thank you"

"You are quite welcome." Both wizards' words were simple, but held so much meaning. Harry began to feel extremely self-conscious about this display of raw human behavior and cleared his throat in an attempt to calm himself.

"I'd best be getting back now, lots of studying to do." Dumbledore chuckled, "that or getting up to your usual mischief. Although, as long as you enjoy today, I've no problems with that."

Harry smirked, spinning on his heel and practically running out the door and down the staircase, where he once again ran into an all to familiar figure. "Potter, that is the second time you have nearly run me over today. If I catch you running in the hallways again, I'm deducing points and sending you do the headmaster."

"That's alright by me," he called back while jogging backwards down the hallway. "I was just there and received wonderful news and I don't think I've felt this good in a long time. Not even the apocalypse could bring me down." And with that, Harry and all of his energetic glory was gone and Snape was left dumbfounded. He shook his head and continued up the stairs to the headmaster's office, muttering under his breath. "Damn teenagers and your emotions."

"What was that Severus?"

Snape looked up to see Dumbledore in a corner of the room playing with a metallic, mobile-like, magical trinket. "I was merely expressing my desire to have Harry Potter's room checked for contraband and find out what the devil it is he's been smoking."

Dumbledore chuckled at his younger friend's snide remarks. "I can assure you, Harry is engaged in nothing of the sort. He is merely experiencing intense joy. I know this for a fact for I was the one to deliver the good news to him."

"Ahh, my condolences (1)." Replied the dark haired wizard with his usual dripping cynicism. Dumbledore sighed, "Well Severus, if you don't believe that to be true, then perhaps we can blame Harry's change of personality to the lack of sleep over these past two months."

Severus's face turned gravely serious. "You have noticed it as well then? Good, because that is what I need to speak with you about. I've brewed a mild sleeping potion for him, but I need your permission to give myself rather then through Poppy."

Dumbledore narrowed his eyes slightly in question. "And why do you wish to give it to him directly?"

"For the sheer convenience. So I don't have Poppy constantly breathing down my need about adjusting the consistency or have to deal with her therapy sessions that she usually has with medicated students. It will be easier for both Potter and myself. This way, we can both get on with our lives."

"Is that all?" Dumbledore let out a clearly exaggerated sigh, "and here I was, starting to think you actually cared."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Yes, because I always end up caring about those I hate and who's family hated me. Especially when they've taken a liking to hanging around outside my door at two in the morning. Please not that my voice is dripping with sarcasm."

Dumbledore chuckled and shrugged his shoulders as he signed the permission form. "I am only doing this on a few conditions though Severus. Keep a close eye on Harry, even when he is not with you for medication. I fear greatly that Harry can no longer be trusted to take care of himself. "

Snape furrowed his eyebrows. "What do you mean?" He fought the urge to step back as Dumbledore shot him a very dark and irritated glare. "I know that you know full well what I speak of. Isobel tells you everything so I'm sure she has, at some point, mentioned a potentially suicidal boy who spends the nights on roof tops."

The uncharacteristic anger on the usually kind and gentle wizard's face washed away and the all-knowing twinkle returned to his eyes. "Even if Harry is self-destructive, he would never harm himself around others, especially those he cares for."

Now it was Snape's turn to dangerously narrow his eyes. Whether Dumbledore was implying a romantic or platonic sense of 'caring' in his statement, Severus didn't like it. He didn't like the idea of having any form of relationship with the son of James Potter. "Let me be perfectly clear on something," he asserted. "I do not care for Potter in any way and I really do not care to be in his company for any period of time. And, last I checked, he felt exactly the same and most likely still does." Snape sighed and the muscles on his face relaxed as he began to speak again. "Besides, Isobel is my only concern these days and I've no room for a socially disturbed insomniac in my life."

Dumbledore rubbed his temples. "Severus, if this mutual hatred between Harry and you exists, then why is he going to you?"

Severus felt something inside of him snap. "Because it's convenient. I'm the only other person who's awake. And because I am, for all general purposes, just as damaged as he is, if not more so." He felt his heart thumping loudly in his chest, not realizing how worked up he had gotten over the topic of Potter. Then again, it wasn't surprising; Harry always kept him walking on eggshells. If the boy hadn't been there, Severus would have been bored out of his mind. Come to think of it, it was amazing that Potter could cause such mental stimulation in a man such as Snape when Harry himself was a bloody fool. Still that didn't mean Snape cared about him.

Severus and Dumbledore discussed trivial topics such as potions and weather for a bit longer then headed for the great hall for dinner. The idea of his caring for young Potter came back to Snape several times throughout the conversation, each time with a new theory, but he always mentally debated the thoughts and put them to rest without appearing distant to his colleagues. He was, after all, Severus Snape, the Potions Master. It was just what he did.

SSSSSSSSS

(1) "My condolences" is an expression of sympathy or empathy usually used on occasions involving a death, such as a funeral. Or it can just be an expression of sympathy, hence, why it is funny that Snape says it here. You'd be surprised how many people have no clue what this means.

Reviews are always appreciated despite the content. Even if you totally flame me, you still took moments of your life to read my story, moments of your life that you will never get back and no amount of flaming will help you get them back! haha!


	7. Chapter 7

Greetings to all of you at the ICPO. I am L. No, not really, I just obsess over Death Note. Anyway, as I previously stated at some point, I steadfastly refuse to abandon this story though my chapter updates may be sporadic and the spelling and grammer horribly off. Hope you enjoy, and i promise that the next one will be all Snape and Harry interaction.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Harry opened his mouth, threw back his head, and let out another violently happy combination of screaming and laughter. He was standing on his favorite rooftop at the top of the east wing of the castle surrounded by a self-cast sound barrier. He couldn't remember the last time he had been so happy and he could barely contain it. Living with people he loved and who loved him; a basic necessity that so many fail to appreciate and something Harry had been robbed of his entire life. All at once, everything seemed to be falling into place, which meant it was only a matter of time before Harry fucked it up. But that didn't mean he couldn't enjoy it while it lasted. Now, if only Bjork was here to celebrate with him.

"Harry! What are you doing?" Speak of the devil.

He turned to see his fellow rooftop dweller walking towards him, guitar and all. Today, she was clad in a butchered purple dress, fishnet stockings with a black trench coat and moon boots. Where did she get all these awesome cloths? "I just received some wonderful news!"

She continued to stare at him in confusion. "I can't hear you at all," she said, tugging at her ear to emphasize the statement. Harry laughed at his own forgetfulness and lowered the sound barrier. "I said 'I have just received some wonderful news' and I feel great! I might spend the entire day running around giving strangers great big hugs; that's how happy I am right now."

Bjork raised an eyebrow and shot him a skeptical look. "So you're going to run up and hug Slytherins at random?"

Harry shook his head and laughed. "I said 'strangers,' not 'people I know for a fact would love to kill me.' Trust me, there is a world of difference."

Bjork smirked and shook her head as she sat down and began to tune her guitar. "So what be this amazing news?"

Harry sat across from her and pulled his knees up to his chest. His face cracked into a wide grin again, "Sirius Black, my godfather, he is being cleared of all charges. He was falsely accused of all sorts of things by the ministry and has had to stay in hiding for years. I'm going to be able to live with him after winter break."

Now Bjork was smiling with him. "That's amazing. I'm so happy for you. But won't your current relatives be upset at your departure. They have been raising you all this time."

Harry's face darkened and he instinctively pulled his knees closer to his chest. Bjork knew that she had crossed the line into dangerous territory. "I'm sorry, should I not have brought up the topic of your family?"

He shook his head. "It's alright. Trust me, the only reason they might keep me around is so my fat bastard cousin will have something to punch around when he has a tantrum. They took me in, but it was out of obligation, not out of the goodness of their hearts. As long as I was alive to keep the Wizarding world off their backs, they didn't care what happened to me or if I got hurt."

"Did you tell this to any of the professors?" Her voice laced with concern.

Harry shook his head violently. "Of course not. It word got out, the media would have gone crazy and they're practically stalking me as it is. Besides, there was nothing that could be done. The spell my mother cast on me to keep me safe would only continue to work so long as I was with blood-relatives. The Dursley's are my only living blood relatives and I couldn't stay with my godfather for previously stated reasons."

Bjork shrugged her shoulders. "I sort of understand. Because of his work, my mother and I could not live safely with my father. We could only see him during the summer and occasionally during winter break. The rest of the time, we just talked on the phone or through letters. After my mom died, my brother and I went back and forth from living in foster care to living with distant relatives. Most of them were nice, but didn't bother to get involved since I would only be with them for a year at the most. They sort of just let me do what I wanted. Other foster family's were far less than friendly." That was all she said, but Harry knew that was much more to the story then she let on.

"Oh, how did- when did your mother die?" He asked tentatively. Bjork picked at her fingernails, smiling and shaking her head.

"It's okay, I can talk about it. She died about four months before my tenth birthday."

"Was it… Voldemort?" She shook her head again and actually laughed a little. "Voldemort, we all feared him but he had nothing to do with my mother's death. What happened was, we mostly lived in America or with my mom's family in Iceland. My mom, she was a very selfless person. She always put everyone else before herself, so every time she was having a problem, she would always put it off so as to not inconvenience anyone else, even when she started to feel sick all the time. She had this really bad cough and these chest pains, and she started getting tired all the time and lost like twenty pounds in less then a month. But she still didn't say anything or go see a doctor because my aunt Nora was going through a divorce and my grandfather was already in and out of hospitals with his diabetes and she wanted to spend as much time as possible with my brother and me. She figured it was just a bad cold and let it go."

"Wait, so you have a brother?"

"Yeah, my older brother. He's in college right now in America studying to become a marine biologist and an environmental lawyer. Although he did study psychology and medicine for a few years." Harry scrunched up his eyebrows in confusion. "Uhm, I don't know what any of that means, but you should probably finish telling me about your mother anyway."

Bjork snickered, "Yeah. Not to brag but my brothers a bit of a genius. Anyway, like, nearly three months went by and she still had the same cough, chest pains, and fatigue and she lost even more weight. My dad knew something was wrong when he heard her always coughing and breathing funny over the phone but she didn't agree to go to a doctor until after she started to cough up blood." Bjork stopped speaking and looked at the ground in an attempt to blink back the droplets of water welling up in the ducts of her eyes. "When she got there, they took an x-ray of her chest and found this massive tumor that covered nearly half of her right lung. It grew so fast in such a short amount of time that the doctors said that, even with chemotherapy, she only had a short amount of time to live, a year or two at the most. So she refused the medicine so that she could devote all of her time to my brother and me and my father. She got really sick really fast and after a while, she had to get wheeled around everywhere outside of the house. She died in her sleep right before dad returned to Hogwarts after Christmas break."

She fell silent and resumed tuning her guitar in another attempt to distract herself from crying. Harry looked at the ground, unsure of what to say or how to react to hearing a painfully honest memory. "I'm sorry to hear that. It sounds like you really loved her, like you all loved each other very much."

"Yeah we did. We still do, my brother and father and me and my mom's family. Which isn't very big, it's just my aunt and my cousins. My father doesn't have contact with any of his relatives as far as I know. But we still have each other and I like to believe that my mother is still with me, in spirit at least."

"How come your father has no contact with his family?" She shrugged her shoulders, clearly uninterested in answering the question. Rather then press the subject, he decided to try another tactic. "What's your worst memory?" She glanced up at him for a moment then returned to tuning, "I'll show you my scars if you show me yours first."

"Fair enough, but it's been such a good day and I'd rather not spoil it with sad thoughts."

Bjork laughed and plucked a few random strings. "That's understandable. " Harry watched her fingers dance over the instrument and listened to the music that had been constantly recoursing through his mind since the day he first heard her play outside the Astronomy tower. "What kind of music do you like to play? Is it all folk?"

"Hmm," she shrugged her shoulders, not appearing overly interested in the topic. "Well, I listen to all genre's of music except for country western and mainstream rap. It all depends on how the sounds feel to me. As for the music I write, it can range anywhere from folk to alternative to rock or electronica. It depends on the song or how I felt when I was making it. But these days, anything that's played acoustically seems to get grouped into the 'folk music' category so that's what I usually go by."

Harry continued to stare out at the night sky. What the hell was he supposed to say to that. "I wouldn't really know. Music doesn't seem to be a big part of the Wizarding culture and my cousin's never taken an interest in it. I get whatever he throws away."

Bjork stopped playing and covered her mouth in a failing attempt to stifle her laughter. Harry narrowed his eyes in irritation, "Okay, what's so funny?"

"Nothing. It's just…" She managed to stop laughing but still had a huge smirk on her face. "It sounds like your cousin and my old foster brother should get together sometime. He's one of the reasons I'm so good at pick pocketing."

"You learned how to pick-pocket from your cousin? Bloody hell! That's exactly how I learned how to steal."

"Yeah, he's such a spoiled pig and if I ever wanted anything, I would have to steal it from him, even food."

"Nuh uh."

"Yeah"

"You know Hagrid?"

"Yeah."

"He tried to turn my cousin into a pig back when we first met. But he only managed to make him sprout a tail since my cousin is so pig like to begin with."

"Nuh uh!"

"Yeah!"

The conversation must have gone on like that for hours. Harry and Bjork must have swapped at least a million and one stories; some funny, some sad, some flat out disturbing, all off which were laugh provoking. Eventually, they ran out of stories but the laughter still vibrated in the air.

Then, out of nowhere, they started singing. The words didn't rhyme and they certainly didn't match up the music coming from Bjork's guitar, but something about it was more magical then a patronis. All to soon, the sun rose and they were forced to go their separate ways, but something about that night stayed constant. Harry knew that, decades from now, he would still look back on it as one of the best nights of his life.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

The tension in the air was more than palpable and yet anyone unaware of the trio's current predicament seemed to remain oblivious. Harry looked up and met eyes with Neville, who then looked over towards Luna and Hermione, who were both looking at Ron. Ron, however, remained unaware for he was far too busy alternating back and fourth between sending looks of worry and compassion towards Ginny and looks of malice and disdain towards Cho.

The Ravenclaw girl could be seen whispering and giggling with an older boy from her house at the next table. Her fingers were tangled in his hair, massaging his scalp and toying with his dark locks. Every time Cho smiled at him or touched him with those delicate fingers, it sent noticeable waves of discomfort and pain through Ginny's body despite her best efforts to appear engrossed in a history textbook alone at the other end of the Gryphendor table.

When asked, Ginny replied that nothing was wrong. That she was just feeling a bit under the weather but anyone with eyes could see that the statement was far from true. Ginny never smiled anymore, not even with her friends. Her skin had become sickly pale except for under her eyes, which were now rimmed by dark gray and purple circles. She hadn't been sleeping. Harry knew this for a fact since he had seen it firsthand while walking to and from the rooftops.

She was falling apart because of what Cho was doing to her and the worst part was that Cho was only treating her this way because Ginny was letting her do it. They all knew it, all except for Ron that was. His overprotective big-brother complex set in the minute he heard his baby sister was in a relationship with the illustrious dating girl known as Cho Chang and had only got more defensive over time. If beating up girls weren't such a frowned upon practice, Ron would have taken Cho out into the Forbidden Forest and ripped her a new one by now. Unfortunately, he had to settle with sending her death-glares from across the hall. "Stupid little bitch!"

"Ron!" hissed Hermione, "Stop calling her names. It's immature and it's not going to change anything."

"Oh, so now I'm immature? Is that right?" Everyone glared at Ron as he rethought the statement. "Okay, so maybe I am immature, but I still have many a good reason to be bloody pissed right now. It's not like the Prefects would launch a school wide investigation if Cho all the sudden decided to stop going through boyfriends the same way she goes through clothing."

A new perspective on the situation found its way into Harry's train of thought. "Well, maybe if…" Alas, when all eyes fell upon him, Harry found that he had lost his conviction to speak. He looked down at plate and mumbled, "She's… Ginny knew she was like that, but Cho should know that she's not okay with it anyway…"

"Harry, what?" Hermione was sending him the same quixotic looks she used to send Luna every time the nargle-obsessed girl opened her mouth.

"I think what Harry is trying to say here is that everyone knows how Cho is when it comes to dating so it's not like Ginny didn't know what she was getting into. At the same time, Ginny is clearly uncomfortable and is suffering because of what Cho is doing and, if Cho really cared about her, she would see this and would change her ways despite the risk of damaging her reputation." Did Neville just say that? Since when did freaking Neville become the word of the wise?

"Ron, Neville's right. You can't blame this entirely on Cho." Hermione sighed in defeat when she realized that neither her nor her friend's words of comfort were doing anything to alleviate her Ron's frustration. "Look, I know that Ginny coming out of the closet was certainly not expected and…"

"That's not it. I have no problem with Ginny's preferences. That's great if she likes girls. I can completely understand that, I like them too; they're much more attractive then other men. What I have a problem with is her horrible excuse for a girlfriend. Ginny's better then that. She doesn't deserve to be trapped in a closeted relationship period, let alone with some bitch who's going to shamelessly flirt with others right in front of her."

"Ron!" hissed Hermione. "I'm not going to say it again; stop calling Cho a bitch."

"Well she is! Ginny told me she didn't want to be in the closet and if Cho cared about her or respected her at all, then she wouldn't be forcing her to stay there out of her own fear of social exclusion." Wow, Ron just said something…logical. Although most of it had been arrived from Neville's previous comment, it was still impressive.

"He does have a point there." Commented Neville through a bite of baked potato. "If you're too scared or too ashamed to be seen with someone, then you have no business being in a relationship with them in the first place."

Harry looked up at the once notoriously clumsy maladroit known as Neville Longbottoms who had, as of recent, become a highly valued member of the trio. He supposed it wouldn't really be considered a trio if it was the four of them. Actually, it was much more then four. There was Dean who often came to their group studies and Seamus who hung around whenever he wasn't out trying to pike up girls. Luna was with them so often that no one even paid mind to her strange habits anymore and Nigel, despite his young age, could often be seen casually chatting with any one of them in the hallways between classes or in the common room. There was even a small portion of students from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw whose company and opinions had become highly valued amongst the group.

In fact, the only way their rag-tag family of former revolutionist could get any stranger would be if some Slytherin's decided to join. Although to be honest, Harry didn't see that happening anytime soon. The Slytherin's had just been rudely awakened from their false delusions of superior race, a notion they had practically been nursed on by their mother's since infancy. Many of the Death Eater's, many of their mother's and father's, had either been killed or committed some sick form of ritual suicide right after the death of the Dark Lord. Those who survived were in Azkaban, awaiting trial and would either be sentenced to death or life without parole and a Dementor's Kiss.

No one, not even Harry, thought about what would happen to all of these kids whose parents were sure to go down with the Dark Lord. Quite a few of them followed their parent's suit and killed themselves. Another large portion disappeared from the Wizarding world entirely and the remaining Slytherin's always appeared to be lost or simply trapped inside their own heads. They dared not speak or even make eye contact with anyone in or outside of their house.

No one thought about what would happen when their parents had been killed and their home lives completely destroyed. When they had all been labeled worthless, powerless scum and the Wizarding world turned their backs and looked the other way. The minister clearly stated after the war that he had no intentions of giving the children and relatives of Death Eaters any form of psychological or financial aid and wouldn't assist them in finding new homes. No one thought about what would happen to the Slytherin's once the war was over and, for the most part, no one seemed to care.

All the sudden, Harry felt himself being snapped back to reality, "…and you know what else Ron? It doesn't matter what you think because this is Ginny's choice and Ginny's problem to solve. She got herself into this and she has to be the one to get herself out."

The exasperation was clear in Hermione's voice and in the irritated glares she was shooting her more often then not clue-less boyfriend. However, his anger was still far from assuaged. "Well, you know what Hermione? That's real easy for you to say, you're just her friend."

Hermione's eyes widened and then narrowed dangerously, "Excuse me Ronald?" Harry and Neville shot each other a look from across the table. If Hermione was calling Ron by his full name, it meant that he had done something wrong and crossed into dangerous territory. Harry had clearly missed an important chunk of the conversation that led from Hermione trying to reassure Ron to them having a full out battle of who was more righteous.

"Well it's the truth, alright Hermione." Ron's eyes were quickly becoming as fiery as his hair. "I can't just be her friend. I'm her older brother and the only one that's around right now. I have an obligation to protect her from being hurt or taken advantage of. It's my responsibility because she's my little sister and I love her and I want to do what's best for her!"

Up until now, Ron and Hermione had somehow managed to keep their heated debate at a dull roar, but now as their voices were slowly rising, more and more students began to take notice. After all, Ron was well known for his great lacking in common sense and common knowledge whereas Hermione was known for the exact opposite, yet they both seemed to be holding their own very well in this verbal battle.

"Dammit Ron! She's not just your little sister anymore. She is her own person who wants to grow and learn and experience things for herself and she can't do that if you're constantly trying to smother her or tell her what she should and shouldn't do. Why can't you understand that?"

Neville cleared his throat in an attempt to interject on their increasingly audible conflict. "Uhm, perhaps you could ask Ginny herself for some input since she can probably hear you right now." Both Ron and Hermione glared daggers at him but seemed to take the point. They resumed eating their dinner, silently fuming and stabbing their forks into the roasted chicken as an alternative way to dispose of their anger.

Harry heard Hermione clear her throat and looked up, "Harry, are you still going to need help finishing that essay tonight?"

"Uhm, no. Thank you though. I have to meet with Professor Snape right after dinner."

Hermione furrowed her eyebrows, "Why are you meeting with Professor Snape?"

"Private tutoring lessons to raise my grade in Potions Class." Harry lied quickly. It was sad that he was such a nervous wreck when it came to trying to give his friends advice and yet he could lie to them so easily.

Neville and Dean, who had just joined them, both snickered while Ron full out laughed, "Oy mate, sucks to be you!"

"Yeah, especially since I just got the new Tran Siberian Orchestra album. I thought we could listen to it at tonight's study group." Dean reached over to scoop some more peas onto his plate, "I thought it would help get everyone into the Christmas spirit."

Ron furrowed his eyebrows, "What's the Tran Siberian Orchestra?"

"It's this music group that takes traditional Christmas music and plays them in a non traditional way with strong rock-metal influence. They're really quite amazing." Ron, if anything, looked even more confused. Hermione reached over and patted the top of his hand in comfort. "It's okay if you don't understand Ron. It's a muggle thing."

Everyone laughed and continued to light-heartedly poke fun at each other as the tension from the previous conversation slowly diminished. Harry found himself laughing with them and even chiming in on occasion with comments or stories of his own. This was strange; Usually every time things started to look good for Harry, they would quickly turn sour and he would be left even worse of then before. But everything had stayed good for almost a month. Every obstacle Harry was confronted with was easily evaded or even solved and he found himself becoming more and more well adjusted to his friends. Perhaps this time, the fruit of life would not spoil so soon, but only time and tonight's visit with his potion's Professor would tell.

As always, reviews, positive or otherwise, are appreciated.


End file.
